Demigod Diplomat
by Finary Lane
Summary: Calm, cool, collected Annabeth Chase was supposed to be the perfect diplomat. One-shot. Rated T for language.


Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

Author's Note: I don't know what this is, but it amuses me. So I thought I should share.

 **Demigod Diplomat**

by: Finary Lane

Annabeth needed to cut a bitch.

She really, really wanted to.

 _Needed_ to.

She stared at the fat man sitting across from her with venom in her eyes. He was the infuriating kind of man that spoke politely to make a good impression and smiled so sweetly she wanted to puke. He was also a liar, and every formal address was tinged with derision and disgust. He didn't want to be in her presence anymore than she wished to be in his.

But he just kept talking and talking, full of propaganda for the camera pointing at them. And she had to sit here and listen to his bullshit and smile pretty at the camera for all the monsters watching cable out there and planning to have her for dinner. She hated it.

Let's put Annabeth in charge of politics, they said. Annabeth is smart. Annabeth is calm and cool and collected. Annabeth would be great at politics. Annabeth always makes the best plans.

Except Annabeth didn't like this plan. All of this… fake smiling and sweaty hand shaking. And sitting on a chairs for hours on end just _talking and talking and-_

 _"_ What do think, Ms. Chase?" he prompted.

That brought Annabeth's mind back to the present.

"What?" she said, not feeling the diplomacy at all. No one was bleeding, that was diplomacy enough as far as she was concerned.

The fat man pursed his lips and straightened his button-up shirt.

"Demigods could tip the scales in the upcoming election, wouldn't they?" he prompted.

Annabeth frowned.

"No, we wouldn't," she answered icily.

 _Demigods don't make it to voting age, you fat fucker._

She decided not to comment further, letting the senator continue his line of nonsense.

Instead, she opted for thinking up every possible way she could kill him. He didn't seem very strong, but he was heavy, much heavier than her. It could be a a little difficult to handle, but most monsters were heavier than her and she could kill them just fine.

She could stab him. Her knife was strapped to her leg under the full length toga she wore. It would be quick. Bam. Knife to the heart. Dead senator. Blood all over the floor. All over the media too.

She could strangle him. It would take longer of course, and there wouldn't be any blood, but she would be able to look him in the eye as the life drained out of him. That was a bonus. She might even hear him beg. The thought brought a smile to her face. She noticed to cameraman shift ever so slightly to focus on her when she did.

She could-

No. She had to stop indulging the fantasies.

Of course, Annabeth knew exactly what was going on. If Clarisse was watching, she would be able to tell at a glance what was wrong with her. As would the rest of the Ares cabin, and the Athena cabin. And any son or daughter of war, actually.

Bloodlust. Some people also called it battle craze. She called it the need to _cut a bitch_.

It wasn't that bad when she was younger. Okay, that was a lie. It had always been pretty bad, but it hadn't been hard to deal with. Go training. Go jogging. Clean the cabin. Polish some knives. Do _something_. Anything, really. Just something to let off some steam. But it seemed to her that the older she was getting, the more she really wanted to gut someone. It kind of scared her sometimes. But she just let off steam with sparring or training and then she went on with her life.

She stared blankly at the man in front of her. It had been seven continuous hours of meeting people and being a _diplomat_. Smile. Be nice. Don't discuss the dracanae waitress. Be cool.

There was only another three hours to go. She could do do this.

She crossed her legs, letting the knife strapped to her thigh dig into her leg. The dull pain gave her a bit more clarity to pay attention. The man was deeply involved in a conversation with himself on the drawbacks of allowing demigods into the mortal community.

 _Oh no,_ she thought to herself, _we're gonna steal your jobs!_

She snorted at the thought of Nico working at McDonald's. Then she remembered that Nico was a huge fan of Happy Meals. He would love working at McDonald's.

"Is there something funny?" asked the senator, voice grave. Annabeth decided to be honest. Because why not? At least it could distract her from the pulsing vein in the man's neck.

"Just the idea of Di Angelo working at McDonald's, Senator Dresden," she admitted.

The senator perked up at this. The demigod envoy had come to talk about negotiations regarding the integration of demigods into society. Dresden had scoffed at the thought. How could people who hadn't changed since Ancient Greece possibly adapt to the modern world? And to think they had been hiding all this time thanks to some strange phenomenon called "Mist." It was a good thing that it had partially failed and the demigods had been discovered. Otherwise, who knew what kind of havoc they could have thrown America into.

The woman, no, the _girl_ hadn't spoken much. Well, she had actually spoken plenty, but nothing interesting. Nothing that would prove that they were too different to integrate. She had spoken placitudes about alliances and peace. And when he had asked for the names of the other demigods, she had clammed up, refusing to tell.

But now, all of a sudden, she had dropped a name. Perhaps accidentally.

"Di Angelo?" he repeated. "Did you not say that you were keeping the names of demigods secret? Why the sudden change of heart?"

Annabeth froze for a fraction of a second, before resuming a pleasant tone.

"Not a change of heart at all, senator. The names I keep secret are for the safety of those demigods. Nico doesn't need it. He's hardly ever here, anyways."

Annabeth didn't like the look on the senator's face.

"Senator, do not go after Nico Di Angelo. I mean it. You don't want to know what he did to the to the last person he had his heart on. He only needed Happy Meals, you know?"

He set a hoard of zombies on him. That's what Nico had done. And Annabeth had been there and fought them off. She had a healthy fear of the son of Hades.

Meanwhile, Senator Dresden's mind went into all sorts of wrong places.

Soon enough, however, the conversation turned back to whatever crap Dresden felt like spouting. Honestly, why would anyone put this man in charge of negotiations? He clearly hated demigods despite not knowing anything about them. She knew the second he opened his mouth that there was little to nothing she could do to change his mind.

Ugh. She had a headache. She wanted to hurt someone. She wanted to beat some reason into the senator. She wanted pizza. With blue pepperoni. She wanted Percy to come make some smart ass comments that would probably get them chased out of the country.

Soon enough, the director called for a break. Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't believe what she had said about Nico on live television. She was supposed to be calm and collected. She made her way over to the refreshments table for a glass of water.

She grabbed one of the plastic cups and sniffed it before swallowing the contents in three large gulps. Dresden, who had also made a beeline for the refreshments, was staring at her, clearly insulted at the need she had to make sure it wasn't poisoned.

Before a word could escape his lips, however, Annabeth had already escaped towards the washroom. In the hallway by the doors, she passed one of the crew members she knew to be in charge of the decor.

"H-hello," he greeted awkwardly, "I'm Geoffrey."

Annabeth internally groaned. She just wanted to get away from _people_ for two minutes. Two minutes! Was that too much to ask? She reigned herself in as tightly as she could. She had to behave herself.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Geoffrey," she said, "My name is Annabeth Chase."

"Well yeah," he scratched the back of his head, passing his hand through his dark hair. "Everyone knows that. You're the star of the show." He chuckled weakly, pausing for a second afterwards.

"Y-you know," he continued in a lower voice, blue eyes meeting hers, "everyone says that you're lying about demigods. I mean, I know you call yourselves that, but no one believes that you're actually half god. It's crazy. Completely nuts. But… I believe you."

He paused a little, ad if embarrassed by the confession.

"And even if it isn't true well… you certainly look the part anyways,"

He looked off to the side.

Annabeth gave him a deadpan look. She did not want to be dealing with this today. Actually, she didn't want to be dealing with this ever. She turned to enter the bathroom but Geoffrey put a hand on her shoulder.

"Annabeth, wait-"

The second he touched her, she elbowed him in the face. In an instant, she was on him, pinning him down with her legs, punching him in the jaw with a satisfying crunch, breaking his right arm like the professional at it she was.

Soon enough, security guards pulled her off of him, but not before she made a bloody mess of him. She hit one across the head hard enough that he fell like a sack of potatoes, but was soon restrained by the others. She was pulled away down the hallway, where she struggled and screamed at the guards to let her go.

Geoffrey held his jaw in wonder.

"Wow," he sighed.

And Annabeth Chase wasn't the diplomat for the demigods any longer.


End file.
